#these writers are rocking it

[newdougsblog]

Magneto really just said “y’all have lost your electricity privileges”

[sourlove]

YANDERE ROCKSTAR HEADCANONS 🎸

TW: UNHEALTHY REALTIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF SUBSTANCES AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE, YANDERE THEMES

AN: Sorry for the wait, my darlings. enjoy <333

READ PART 1 HERE

Yandere!Rockstar who likes the way you look at him, like he hung the sun and the moon stars in the sky.

Yandere!Rockstar who has no choice but to take you along with the band, Jailbird, on tour. After all, what's an artist without his muse?

Yandere!Rockstar who never shows you off. He just doesn't anyone to get the opportunity to steal you away after all. You don't mind though. You're more than happy to play the role of his 'assistant' is that means you get to be close to your favorite musician.

Yandere!Rockstar who spoils you in private, fucking you into the mattress and leaving bruises that decorate your skin for days. He adores you, his little starlight, and whispers his love for you in the dead of the night.

Yandere!Rockstar who takes you out when the band is in a new city to new, interesting places. The two of you giggle together as you disguise him so you won't get mobbed by fans. It's risky, but it brings you closer.

Yandere!Rockstar who loves when you tell him how much you love him, and his music, and his body, like you worship him. It drives him crazy, the way you follow him around like you need him.

Yandere!Rockstar who rewards you when 'Y/N', becomes his most popular song yet. The band throws a small party when the numbers come in, and that night Axel kisses you in front of everyone for the first time. Everyone is cheering and laughing but the only one you care about looks at you, only you and tells you that he loves you.

"You're all I need, starlight. My little good luck charm."

Yandere!Rockstar who starts to be a little more open about your relationship. Now, he talks about his inspiration for 'Y/N' and it's connection to his first song, 'Starlight'. He talks about how he needed a single push with with both songs, the second push being you. He doesn't give all the details but it makes you feel warm inside. Axel had finally acknowledged you.

Yandere!Rockstar who no longer makes you pretend to be his assistant to avoid any questions. Now, he dresses you in designer clothes and everyone who knows you, knows you as Axel's girl, the Y/N.

Yandere!Rockstar who becomes even more famous all of a sudden, his music reaching corners of the world you would have never thought of. He can't take you everywhere anymore. It's too inconvenient, he says, to drag you all over the world. Just be a good girl and wait for him in the luxurious penthouse he bought you, okay?

Yandere!Rockstar who slowly starts getting more annoyed the more you ask him to come home. He's busier than he ever was before and has to get a new album ready while still on tour. You obviously don't know how difficult it is for him, since all you do is mope around all day and wait for him.

Yandere!Rockstar who buys a different house for himself when his tour eventually ends. It's just so the grand parties he throws don't bother your peace. But he spent so much time there it felt like he only came to your place when he wanted to change clothes and take a quick nap.

Yandere!Rockstar who buys you more clothes, more accessories and designer trash when you complain. How could you possibly want any more than this? The world is at your feet, you can have anything and everything you want. Everything, except him.

Yandere!Rockstar who didn't bat an eye when you left, too lost in the high of drugs and fame to care about his old girlfriend who was nothing like the models and celebrities he now had at his beck and call. Sure, you had a nice run, but all good things must come to an end, no? Lucky you, you even got a song named after you. You didn't feel so lucky. But you manage to pull yourself together and move on.

Yandere!Rockstar who starts to feel a bit off. He can't put his finger on it though. It bothers him when he gets to his penthouse and it's a mess from a party. It was never like that before. It used to smell like home cooking and fresh flowers. What changed?

Yandere!Rockstar who becomes restless. It's like he's constantly searching for something that used to be there, just in his peripheral, something he always had but never really noticed until it wasn't there anymore.

Yandere!Rockstar who can't write any more songs. It's like he can't string together a cohesive lyric anymore. His band, his manager, everyone gets frustrated with him because they don't understand. They don't understand that something is missing.

Yandere!Rockstar who feels so lonely. There's thousands of people who would give themselves to him if he so much as breathed in their direction. But no matter how much sex he has, how many fucked up, short lived relationships he enters, there's an empty void that nothing can fill.

Yandere!Rockstar who almost gives up. His music has no meaning now and he can't even mourn what would have been in the privacy of his own home. Because everyone, so oblivious to his turmoil, still wants to party with the star.

Yandere!Rockstar who, in a drunken tirade, turns to a model that keeps latching herself to him asks her what she thought of his music. She liked it all, of course. But what's your favorite song, he urges. She thinks for a while and finally mentions a popular song in one of his albums. It's good. A really good song. But Axel frowns and asks, what about Starlight?

Yandere!Rockstar who immediately remembers you. Sweet, loyal you. Because you would never scoff and dismiss Starlight as 'that cheesy song'. You knew how important it was. You were the first to hear the song and see it for what it really was, to see him for what he really was. Starlight, 'Y/N', every single song he had ever written was a love poem to you. The only problem with his new songs was that you were what was missing.

Yandere!Rockstar who got his manager to dig up your information, the woman would do anything to keep Jailbird up and running. Axel barely even thinks of the details or perhaps of what to say to you. All he wants is to see your face and for you to look at him like you always used to, like he was your everything.

Yandere!Rockstar who wanted, more than anything, to have you love him again. And this time, he swore he would never let you slip out of his grasp again.

FIND MY MASTERPOST AND ALL MY LINKS HERE

Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed. It took me a while to get inspo so I really hope you guys liked this.

[deanblunting]

“I just want to have a completely adventurous, passionate, weird life.” - Jeff Buckley

[sokkas-therapist]

NOBODY BOTHER ME the writers of the Boiling Rock episodes said that Sokka and Zuko fight like an old married couple

[sbrown82]

Marsha Hunt, circa 1970.

[bixels]

Bit of a weird question, but what is your overall least favorite thing about MLP? 

Sparity.

[pyunyrage]

-via the.soundgeist on instagram

[wildflowerwildfiree]

[celestialwrites]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ fluffy best friends to lovers dialogue prompts

✩ "what if i told you i love you? and not just as your friend."

✩ "can i kiss you? shit! i didn't mean to say that-" "shut up and kiss me you big idiot."

✩ "i don't want you going out with them," "why not?" "because i want you to go with me."

✩ "i've loved you since the day you threw a rock at me in first grade."

✩ "and if i did kiss you? what would you do then?"

✩ "if you were my (boyfriend/girlfriend/partner) i would worship the ground you walk on."

✩ "kiss me." "you aren't serious." "i so am."

✩ "because you're my best friend and i fucking love you." "you love me as your friend or as something more?"

✩ "when i saw you that first day of 7th grade i knew one thing, and it's not just that i wanted to become your favourite person, it's that i wanted to be your everything. best friend or more, just let me be your everything."

✩ "spin the bottle?" "there's only two of us..."

✩ "let's play a game, kiss, marry & love, the options are me, me and wouldn't you look at that, me."

✩ "are you... jealous?" "so what if i am?"

@celestialwrites for more.

[theriverdraws]

HEY UH, TOBY FOX VOICED A CHARACTER IN "WE BABY BEARS"???

OKAY????

[thingsthatcometomymindwheniwrite]

father forgive me for the type of fictional characters I say “he just like me fr” about

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir." 

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit." 

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair. 

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-" 

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?" 

"What, now you care?" 

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs. 

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?" 

*

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like- 

"Watch out!" 

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him. 

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph. 

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-" 

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time." 

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way. 

For a second, nobody says anything. 

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful." 

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!" 

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …" 

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide. 

"I, erm … Dustin." 

"I'll stay here with Dustin." 

*

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick. 

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids." 

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light. 

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though." 

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee. 

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs. 

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-" 

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-" 

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon." 

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly. 

Dustin sighs and stands. 

"Coming, Hop." 

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-" 

And then it clicks. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says. 

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise." 

The door clicks shut. 

The car glides away. 

Eddie buries his face in his palms. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit." 

Eddie groans. 

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day. 

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[sourlove]

YANDERE ROCKSTAR 🎸 INTRO FIC (200 Follower Special!)

TW: HE GETS YANDERE LATER ON. NOTHING REALLY IN THIS ONE, CARRY ON

THANKS SO MUCH FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS! ENJOY!

(FEMALE GROUPIE READER)

Smoke billowed from Axel's parted lips as he ran a hand down his face. The club was hazy and jampacked with drunk people grinding on each other. It would have been too much if he had been a part of the sweaty throng, but Axel had the luxury of watching them from the balcony of the VIP section.

He sighed and took another drag of his cigarette, dropping his head back against the seat. He shouldn't have come here.

"Axe! My man!" An arm slung over Axel's shoulder and he was greeted with the unwelcome face of the Jailbird drummer, Max. The man grinned at the distaste on Axel's face. "Jeez, man, you've been so uptight lately. Should I get some girls?"

"Get off me," Axel grumbled. He couldn't even be bothered to shake him off. "You know why I'm fucking stressed."

Max hummed in understanding and handed him a bottle of beer. For the past few days, Axel couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Jailbird's new album was supposed to come out in a few months and for the life of, him, he couldn't stop mulling over the title track. It was the most important song in the album, one that should be guaranteed to make headlines. One that he hadn't written yet.

"Would you look at that?" Max mumbled, causing Axel to glance towards the entrance of the VIP lounge. The bass guitarist, Eli and the pianist, Maryanne, came in laughing. But they weren't alone. They were followed by a gaggle of girls, all awe-struck and giggling at whatever story Elijah was telling. Max immediately gravitated towards the group, followed by the other guitarist Riley.

Axel stayed seated and sipped his drink, ignoring them when Max tried to pull him into the conversation. He didn't have time for this. Normally, he would be working his charm on some poor girl, using her to blow of some steam and slip away once he was done.

But there was an itch he couldn't scratch tonight. One that had him snapping at the only girl who dared to try her luck with the lead singer and guitarist of the band. Everyone steered clear after that. He needed some kind of inspiration for the fucking song and nothing in this club was helping.

Axel was nearly done with his third cigarette when his eyes drifted and suddenly met yours. E/C eyes widened and immediately darted away. He would have thought nothing of it if you didn't glance back after a few seconds, looking embarrassed when you made eye contact once again. He smirked and took you in for the first time that night. Now there was a surprise. There was something striking to you. You were dressed the same as the other girls and seemed starstruck by everything, just like them, but there was a freshness to you that intrigued Axel.

Before he could register his thoughts, he beckoned you over. You blinked and looked around. He shook his head and pointed directly at you, grinning. You stood up shakily and walked to him, looking like a newborn fawn in your precariously high heels.

"H-hi," you said, standing next to the couch.

"Hi. Come sit." Axel made room for you, just enough that your thighs still touched. You twisted your hands nervously as he drank in the sight of you.

"Um, i-it's nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan."

"You like Jailbird?" he asked. "What's your favorite song, then?"

You jumped when his hand played with the collar of your blouse. It was cute, like you. A bit revealing, Axel noted, as his eyes drifted over your cleavage, but nice. Simple.

"Oh no. I mean the band is awesome, but I'm really just a fan of you." You ducked your head shyly. "I like 'Starlight'."

He laughed loudly, surprised. "You know Starlight? Fuck, that's an old song. I don't believe you."

'Starlight' was one of the few songs he performed alone, when Jailbird was just a dream that only he and Max believed in. Axel only ever sang it once, at a random talent show and he didn't even place on the board. It had been a blight in his career, one he buried with new albums and songs that topped the charts. So he was genuinely surprised to see you reach into your bag and unfold a creased flyer for the talent show, dated years ago. On the back, was his old signature, a rough scrawl that he hated but remembered.

"Shit." Axel squinted at the paper, suddenly sober. "You-you really were there..."

"I don't think you would remember me," you babbled on, oblivious to his internal thoughts. "I wanted to ask for a picture, but you didn't look so good, which I understand because you were robbed! I-I mean, you obviously deserved first place, Starlight was-is amazing!"

Axel didn't like to be reminded of the time when he was nobody, when nothing he ever wrote was good enough, especially not Starlight. It was his first song, his favorite song, until all he got for it was scattered applause and a participation slip. The band was formed and Axel had a new sound, a new meaning to his songs. Starlight did not cut it anymore.

And now, here you were, digging up his dirty past, holding it to his face. And showing him how much you loved it. It was humbling. Axel didn't like to be humbled. But he liked you. He liked you very, very much.

"Ever had a shotgun kiss?" He asked, interrupting your rant. You blinked again and shook your head.

"Oh no, I don't smoke, sorry."

"You could start," Axel said, holding his cigarette up. He took a long drag and grabbed you face, squishing your cheeks to part your lips. He smirked when your breath hitched as your mouths met and chuckled when you coughed, pulling away from him. "Not bad, starlight. Just needs some practice." He held out his bottle and you took a tentative sip, smiling shyly. Cute.

"You're much nicer than you look," you commented. Only to immediately backtrack. "N-not that you look mean or anything! It just seems like you prefer being alone..."

Axel hummed, lighting another stick. He held it up to you and stared at you with an eyebrow raised. You grimaced but wrapped your lips around it anyway. When you stopped coughing, he said, "You should listen to your instincts. I'm not so nice, starlight."

He watched you fiddle with the hem of your skirt for a moment, before glancing up at him through your lashes. "Well...what if I don't want to listen to them?"

Suddenly, Axel wanted nothing more than to leave the club with you on his arm. He grinned and stood up, offering his hand to you. "Oi, Max! I'm heading back so don't wait up!"

You blushed as your friends cheered, and Max gave Axel a thumbs up. "Where are we going?" Were you really that clueless? Axel would have a lot of fun ruining that innocence.

"Just you wait, starlight," he purred into your ear, nipping at the soft shell as you shivered. "I'm going to change your life."

Hours later, in his hotel suite, as his sweat cooled and his heartbeat slowed, Axel's mind buzzed with ideas. The inspiration he had been desperately searching for rushed to him as you nuzzled into his neck, sleepily.

"What did you say your name was again, starlight?"

"Hmmm? Y/N."

"Fuck that's a pretty name," he breathed.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N...it looked like he had a title for the song. All he had to do was start writing down and tweaking the lyrics. But that would have to come later. Axel pulled you closer and drifted to the first peaceful rest he'd had in weeks, with your name still on his tongue.

Y/N...

READ PART 2 HERE

FIND MY MASTERPOST AND ALL OTHER LINKS HERE

A/N: Hope you guys love Axel as much as you love Lucas! If you enjoyed, leave a like, comment and reblog. Or drop and ask for anything you had in mind. Loves ya xxx

[that-ineffable-devil]

I really appreciate that, in Charles' wrap-up of "the pennies dropped" he specifically uses the word "murdered" in reference to Niko. Because she was murdered. She didn't sponteously die. She wasn't killed by accident. She was murdered. It was intentional. Esther threw that bolt with the intention to kill whoever it hit. It doesn't matter that it was meant for Crystal.

Words are powerful. Words have meaning.

And of course he would use the right word. After all, both he and Edwin were murdered. Maybe the boys who murdered them didn't have that exact intention, but their intentions were no less lethal and no less malicious.

[melluvsuu]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 . ”

character : dazai osamu

context : you’re an agent going undercover, you encounter port mafia executive dazai. he finds you interesting. yeah..

authors note : you should listen to the diner by Billie ellish to get the vibe to it.

warning : stalker briefly mentioned, stalker!dazai, can be interpreted romantically or whatever, shout out to my bbg @riiwrites 😼☝🏽, murder and blood mentioned too, gender not mentioned, literally we rock with they/them 💋‼️.. uhm I think that’s all gays yeah..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒, the last remnants of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon. It was a view [name] had come to appreciate, standing on the balcony of the modest clinic where [name] built their cover. As a doctor specialising in human behaviour, their role was simple enough—listen, observe, and blend in. Standing there in viewing the people going about their days, [name] ran their fingers along the balcony’s iron railing, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath their skin. In this quiet neighbourhood, [name] was simply known as Dr. [name]—a doctor who listened to the woes of the weary, a person who could help people understand the storms in their minds. In some ways, [name] had taken to the role more naturally than they expected. It wasn’t far from what I had trained for, after all. But beneath that calm exterior, my real purpose was far more pressing.

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the papers on my desk inside the small office. I stepped back inside, closing the door behind me as I glanced at the scattered reports and profiles I’d been reviewing. Every interaction I had here was a potential lead—every patient, every conversation was a thread that might lead me to the missing documents. I was hunting for the whispers in the crowd, the signs that something was about to crack.

I sat down and opened one of the files again. A name stared back at me—Takeda Masaru, a local journalist with a reputation for being nosey. He had been in to see me twice, under the guise of seeking help for stress and insomnia. But I knew better. Knocking me out of my train of thought, my smartwatch started vibrating. It was morse code.

‘GOOD EVENING AGENT [NAME], IT'S NICE TO YOU ALIVE AND WELL.WE HAVE NEW INTEL. THERE'S BEEN SIGHTING AT THE LOADING. THE DOCUMENTS SHOULD BE THERE. IT SHOULD BE A DARK RED CARGO BOX WITH THE NAME ‘MELLUVS ART AND WRITING SUPPLIES’ . QUICKLY GET THERE BEFORE ANYBODY INTERVENES. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU.’

I quickly changed my clothing still keeping my pants and shoes and swapping my glasses with sunglasses, my shirt with a business shirt. Taking my coat off the rack I jumped off of the railing onto the pavement. The cold air hitting my face, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. The peaceful exterior I’d adopted as a doctor was peeling away, revealing the true purpose behind the mask.

I arrived at the loading dock slipping past guards. While remaining on my toes, looking around, finding the maroon cargo box, picking the lock, catching it before it could fall can make noise. Opening the door and sorting through papers. I found the papers of the document, putting the papers in my doctors folder, I turned to step out just to be greeted with…

"Are you lost?" a voice rang out behind them.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards the stranger with a simple smile.

“I said, are you lost? Dr. [name].” He repeated.

Standing in the shadow of a weathered chimney was a young man, barely older than them, with an unsettlingly casual grin. His black hair fell messily over his eyes, his posture loose and unthreatening, but I knew better than to trust appearances. There was something sharp beneath that smile.

“Ah. No I’m not..”

"Dazai Osamu," the man introduced himself, stepping closer without a care in the world. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."

"Coincidence?" [name]’s voice was flat, unamused. "I don’t believe in coincidences."

Dazai’s grin widened. "Smart. I don’t either."

This wasn’t good. My mission had suddenly become complicated—this was Dazai, a notorious figure in the Port Mafia, rumoured to be both brilliant and dangerous. Getting caught up with him was exactly what their agency warned them about. But retreating now would be even worse. They couldn't afford to show any weakness.

"You’re in my way," I stated plainly, their eyes locked onto him. Dazai’s expression flickered briefly with interest.

"Am I?" he mused, not moving an inch. Instead, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "I wonder what someone like you is doing up here. You don’t seem like the usual riffraff the mafia deals with. You're different."

I said nothing. They were trained to maintain a poker face, but they could feel Dazai’s gaze piercing through them, searching for cracks.

After a tense silence, I decided it was better to end this encounter quickly. "I have no business with you. Walk away."

Dazai’s grin softened into something almost playful. "I could say the same. But I don’t feel like walking away just yet. You intrigue me."

Before you could respond, a shout echoed from the alley below—footsteps, too many of them. The mission wasn’t over yet. With a sharp glance at Dazai, [name] moved quickly, shoving him out the way with the documents I hand, disappearing into the shadows of the cargo port.

𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟 . ♡ . 𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎢

The mission was complete, the documents recovered, and the city’s fragile calm preserved. Days passed, and YN pushed the encounter with Dazai to the back of their mind. They believed they had left him behind in that port, a fleeting figure from a fleeting night.

But they were wrong.

It began with small sightings—first at a diner near one of their agency’s hideouts, a quaint place where [name] often went to clear their mind. They walked in for a quiet moment, only to find Dazai, seated by the window, sipping his coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes met theirs, and that familiar grin spread across his face.

The next time, it was at their ‘job’. [name] worked as a hired security operative for a private military company, and the sight of Dazai loitering near the building was more than unsettling. He didn’t approach them, but his presence was a constant reminder that he was watching.

The evening air felt heavy as [name] returned home from a long shift, exhaustion pulling at their every step. They hadn’t noticed the lingering presence outside, the demon in the shadows, waiting. The lock clicked into place behind them as they shut the door, and for a moment, they stood still, listening. No footsteps followed. The silence was almost comforting.

They kicked off their shoes, fingers absently unbuttoning their dress shirt, craving nothing more than the solace of the couch. As they sank into it, something caught their eye—an envelope, placed conspicuously on the coffee table. A surge of unease rippled through their tired mind, heart beginning to race as they reached for the envelope, fingers brushing the edge of the paper with caution. Slowly, they opened it, their eyes scanning the contents.

‘THIS IS A REALLY NICE PLACE YOU’VE GOT HERE! MIND IF I MOVE IN? I HOPE YOU’RE READING THIS SILLY NOTE! I MIGHT’VE STOLEN SOME DOCUMENTS AND IMPORTANT FILES FROM YOUR OFFICE, SORRY, AGENT [NAME]~!’

A low groan of frustration escaped their lips as they crumpled the note and tossed it into the garbage. [name] rubbed their temples, too drained to deal with the antics of a certain mafioso tonight. Just as they tried to let the tension slip away, they caught sight of something—someone—standing on the balcony.

Their heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, they reached for their gun, gripping it tightly as they cautiously approached the window. They slid it open with precision, never taking their eyes off the figure leaning against the railing. "You’re persistent," [name] said, gun ready but posture steady.

The man on the balcony didn’t seem fazed by the weapon. Dazai Osamu smiled as if this were all part of a game. "And you’re elusive," he countered, voice light and carefree. But there was something beneath that tone, something deeper, lurking behind the casual amusement in his gaze. "I like people who don’t give themselves away so easily."

[name] sighed, lowering the gun but keeping it in hand. Arms crossed, they met his eyes with thinly veiled exasperation. "What do you want, Dazai?"

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ve been trying to figure that out. You’re… interesting. And I’m rarely interested in anyone."

"Flattering," [name] muttered, voice laced with sarcasm as their patience wore thin. "But I’ve got work to do."

Dazai’s expression shifted, his grin softening, but his presence growing more intense as he stepped closer. "I know," he said quietly. "That’s what makes this so fun. You, with your little secrets and dangerous missions… I can’t help but want to unravel it all."

"You can’t follow me forever," [name] warned, voice quieter now, each word a warning laced with resolve.

Dazai’s smile softened further, almost genuine. "Maybe not," he agreed, his voice low, "but I can follow you for a little while longer.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment,” [name] snapped, their voice sharp as they levelled the gun at Dazai. The cold metal clicked audibly as they cocked it, a clear threat in the air. They pointed toward the door, eyes hard and unyielding. “Do it now, or I'll shoot you.”

Dazai’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, his eyes gleaming with that same unsettling amusement, as if the threat didn’t faze him in the slightest. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his body remained relaxed, nonchalant, as though he were in complete control of the situation.

“Shoot me?” he mused, voice light but laced with something darker. “Now, now, Agent [name] that seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m joking?” [name] growled, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

Dazai took a step closer, completely unbothered by the barrel pointed at him. His voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes locking with theirs. “No, I don’t. That’s what makes this so exciting.”

There was a tension in the room now, thick and palpable. [name] held their ground, but Dazai’s calmness, his lack of fear—it was disarming. He was playing a game they weren’t sure they could win.

“Get out.” [name] demanded, not lowering the gun but sensing this encounter was only going to spiral deeper.

Dazai’s smile softened just a touch, his tone almost genuine. “Nope~!”

“You’re testing my patience,” [name] warned, heart pounding but steady, still aiming squarely at his chest.

“Good,” Dazai murmured, stepping back toward the balcony door. “I like it when people have limits. It gives me something to push.”

With a final glance, he gave them a playful wink. “Until next time, Agent.” Then, as quickly and casually as he had appeared, Dazai slipped out, leaving the tension in the room behind him like a lingering shadow.

[name] stood still, their gun still raised, breaths coming in heavy. The sense of danger hadn’t left—it was only a matter of time before he returned.

additional author notes : ending kinda sucked ass again smh..

word count: 1k

reposts are welcome but do not steal my work!

[sbrown82]

Marsha Hunt visiting her hometown of Philadelphia in the documentary "Made in America" (1996).